


Give A Little Bit

by octothorpetopus



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Hurt Derek Morgan, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Derek Morgan, Sad Spencer Reid, Secret Relationship, Song: Give A Little Bit (Supertramp)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24798424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octothorpetopus/pseuds/octothorpetopus
Summary: After six months of dating in secret, Spencer’s ready to tell their friends. Derek isn’t quite so sure.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 194





	Give A Little Bit

“Coffee. Now.” Derek paused in the doorway to the round table room. “Uh, please.” Emily looked up from where she stood by the coffee machine, arching her eyebrows.

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.” He slumped into his chair, accepting the styrofoam cup gratefully when she offered it to him. “God, why does no one remind me not to drink too much?”

“You’re a grown-ass adult, Morgan. At this point, if you’re hungover on a work day, that’s on you.”

“Yeah, that’s not helpful. Coffee is helpful.” He chugged the entire cup in one go, wincing at the bitter taste.

“Man, what did you do last night?” He shrugged, and the rest of the team filed in. Spencer sat down next to him, his eyes curious.

“I went out.”

“Hot date?” Derek smirked.

“I guess you could say that. We were clubbing for awhile, then went back to my place for a nightcap, things got out of hand, and now…” As if to prove his point, he knocked his sunglasses over his eyes, blocking out the brilliant overhead fluorescent light. 

“Wait, wait, wait. This is the fifth night in like, two weeks you’ve had a date. Derek Morgan, do you have a girlfriend?” He laughed easily, but shifted in his seat.

“Come on, Em, I-“

“Who is she? Come on, tell me.”

“You don’t know her.” Spencer cleared his throat, smiling flatly.

“Hey, guys?” He gestured to the front of the room, where Penelope was waiting patiently.

“If you guys would please stop flirting, I’d like to start the briefing.” Sheepishly, Derek waved a hand.

“My bad. Proceed.”

“Thank you. Now, if you’ll look at your tablets, you’ll see- oh, god, I didn’t mean to look at that…”

It was a local case, and as it turned out not one that they could be helpful in, so Derek went home to his little house in Arlington, flopped down on his sofa with his German shepherd’s head in his lap, and flipped on a cooking show. He was ready to doze off to Rachel Ray’s pickled onion recipe when his doorbell rang.

“I swear to god, if you’re a Jehovah’s Witness or someone trying to sell something, I will throw you into the Potomac!”

“It’s me.” Derek’s mood brightened. He raced to the door, skidding on the hardwood floors. and threw it open.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” he said, leaning against the door frame as nonchalantly as he could.

“Hi.” With the awkward sweetness Derek had grown accustomed to, Spencer leaned in to kiss him quickly, his hands wrapped tightly around the strap of his messenger bag.

“Oh, come on, you can give me more than that.” Derek seized Spencer’s face firmly in his hands and kissed him, really kissed him, long and slow and sweet and warm. The beginnings of rain floated through the air. “Come on in,” he said, holding open the door. Spencer stepped inside, but didn’t go straight to the kitchen like he almost always did (Derek always had a steady supply of baked goods from Penelope, most of which Spencer ate). Instead, he stood in the foyer, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

“Uh, can we sit down?”

“Yeah, sure.” They sat down in the living room, and that’s when Derek knew something was happening, something big. Spencer always sat on the floor in front of the sofa, for some reason, and despite Derek’s protests that it was bad for his back. This time, however, he sat in one of the soft but rarely used leather armchairs, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on the stiff black leather. 

“Spencer, baby, talk to me.” Derek absentmindedly scratched the top of Clooney’s head.

“Do you remember our first date? Like, our first real date?”

“Sure. It was about a month before Emily came back.”

“That was six months ago, Derek.”

“Yeah. Wow. Spence, what’s your point?”

“My point is that it’s been six months, or actually six months, two weeks, and four days, and we haven’t told a single member of our team.”

“...Spencer, we’d lose our jobs. We could face legal repercussions. We’re government agents.” Derek leaned back, smiling, but his stomach turned. This was more serious than he’d thought and he knew it.

“Derek, you know Hotch wouldn’t report us. Penelope and Kevin make it work. Why can’t we? Tell me, why can’t we make it work?”

“Look, I don’t want to argue about this tonight.”

“Derek.” Spencer clutched his hand, pleading. “I need to tell my friends- our friends- our family.”

“Why? Why do they need to know?” Spencer got to his feet, stammering and starting to pace.

“I don’t know, Derek, maybe because I’m sick of hearing you talk about all the girls you go out with when I know damn well that at the end of the day, I’m the one you come home to. I don’t want to have to hear you talk about your ‘girlfriend’ who doesn’t exist just so you don’t have to tell Emily. What is going on with you? I understood not wanting to tell people for the first few months, but we’re six months into this thing. Do you… do you not want to be with me?”

“Spencer, of course that’s not it.” Derek stood up and took Spencer’s hands, but Spencer ripped them away.

“Then what? Are you embarrassed of me? Of how young I am? Or is it just because I’m… odd?”

“No. Never, ever think it’s because I’m ashamed to be with you.”

“Then why?”

“I just want some damn privacy! Don’t you? We let these people into every little nook and cranny of our lives whether we want to or not, and I want- no, I  _ need  _ something that they don’t get a say about!”

“They don’t get a say, but I sure as hell should.”

“I’m doing this for us! I’m doing this for you, Spencer!”

“I- what?” Spencer stepped back, puzzled.

“Look at us, kid. You were a child prodigy and had three PhDs by the time you were twenty-four. And me, well… you know me. What are they going to think?”

“They’re our friends, Derek. They’re our  _ family.. _ _   
_ “Friends don’t always have the response you want them to. Come on, you know that.”

“So, what? You don’t want them to know about us because if they know we’re queer-” Derek flinched at the word, but Spencer didn’t seem to notice. “-then they’ll think I’m even weirder than they already think I am? I don’t care about that, and I honestly don’t really think you do either. I think this is about you. You don’t want them to view you as any less of the alpha male hypermasculine son of a  _ bitch  _ that you try to be.”

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ profile me,  _ doctor,”  _ Derek snarled, and even though they were the same height, Spencer seemed tiny by comparison. “You know, I thought you were different than them. I thought you were willing to give me a little privacy. Our fourth date, we made a promise not to profile each other. Ever. You just broke that promise, so I don’t think you get to tell me anything about our relationship right now.” Spencer bit his lip, still obviously angry, but he couldn’t seem to come up with anything else to say. “Why did you have to do this, Spencer? We have a good thing going, don’t we?”

“Sure. But what’s the point of a good thing if it never sees the light of day?” Before Derek could respond, both of their phones buzzed.

“New case.”

“New case.” They stared at each other for a moment. 

“We should-”

“I think I’ll take my own car.” Spencer pressed his lips together until they disappeared in a thin white line, and Derek couldn’t tell if he was trying not to scream or cry. “I’ll see you there.” Without waiting for a response, he left, slamming the front door behind him and abandoning Derek, who stood quiet and helpless in the living room, Clooney whimpering at his feet. He was so tired of fighting, but something in him wouldn’t let him tell them. Something in him screamed  _ YOU CAN’T YOU CAN’T YOU CAN’T  _ over and over and over again, bouncing around his head like an echo in an empty cathedral. But if he didn’t, he would lose Spencer. Those two things weighed in the scales of his mind, but he pushed them aside. They had a case, and he didn’t have a choice.oice.

At some point while they were arguing, the light mist had turned into heavy rain, and by the time Derek made it into Quantico he was soaked from head to toe. He dripped water on the round table room floor. Spencer was already there when he arrived, folded into his chair, his expression not angry but sober, introspective. When Garcia started the briefing, his head snapped up, as if waking from a dream.

“Last week in Harlon, Kentucky, three former inmates from a federal penitentiary were found stabbed to death and buried in shallow graves in a park. They were found by a woman walking her dog, who used to be a K-9.”

“They were killed fairly close together, that means this unsub isn’t hesitant,” Rossi mused.

“We should be looking at other released inmates.” Hotch set his tablet down on the table.

“Victims and families of their crimes, too,” Emily added.

“Could be a corrections officer gone rog-“

“We should be looking at everyone working in the criminal justice system when they were put into prison,” Spencer said, interrupting Derek without a second thought or glance.

“Uh, yeah.” Hotch’s eyes flirted back and forth between Spencer and Derek. “We’ll do a preliminary profile on the plane. Wheels up in thirty.” Everyone stood to leave, but Hotch didn’t move. “Morgan, stay behind for a minute.” He paused halfway to the door, briefly considered making a break for it, but stayed. When he turned around to look at Hotch, Hotch was more concerned than anything else. “What’s going on with you and Reid?” Derek shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

“Nothing.”

“Really? He seems upset. Specifically at you.”

“I don’t know, Hotch.”

“Morgan, if there’s something going on with you two-“

“Hotch, I promise. Everything’s fine.” Hotch didn’t look as if he believed Derek, but he didn’t press the issue further.

“Fine. Grab your go bag, let’s get this show on the road.”

That was how it went. It was another short case, not a hard one either. Spencer ignored Derek, Derek let him, and the rest of the team stood by in awkward silence, unsure what was happening but not willing to say anything about it. That was how it went. At least, until the plane ride back to Washington. They sat at opposite ends, instead of curled up next to each other like they always slept, like they had always done even when they were just friends, or at least before they realized that they were anything more than that. Derek watched Spencer turn the pages of his book absentmindedly. He knew that Spencer couldn’t be reading, because it was taking him far too long. Hesitantly, quietly, he got up and crossed the plane to sit across from Spencer, who pointedly didn’t look at him. Everyone else was dead asleep, but Derek couldn’t and he could tell that Spencer couldn’t either.

“Talk to me,” he whispered, fighting the urge to reach over and squeeze Spencer’s bony knee like he always did when they were making up from a fight.

“About what?” Still, Spencer didn’t look up.

“Spencer, goddamnit, I can’t see why you’re so upset with me.”

“Really? You really can’t see it?”

“If anyone has a right to be upset, it’s me. I told you, I’m not ready.”

“And that’s exactly it. You’re thinking about how this affects you. ‘I’m not ready.’ I am. We have to make these decisions together, and you’re not even considering-“

“I don’t need to consider anything,” Derek hissed, trying to keep his voice low but failing. “I’m not ready, and it’s not fair of you to expect me to-“

“No, you know what’s not fair?” Spencer wasn’t thinking anymore, and his volume was increasing steadily. Out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw JJ start to stir. “What’s not fair is for you to expect me to not tell my friends about our six-month relationship. What’s not fair is that even though neither of us has been out with another person in those six months, you refuse to let me call you my boyfriend.”

“Keep-“ Derek’s head darted around. Everyone else was still asleep. “Keep your voice down.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep my voice down,” Spencer said, very much not keeping his voice down. “Fine. But I’m sick of you telling me that I have to pretend like everything’s normal when it’s not.” JJ was fully awake now, and Derek could see her gently shake Emily.

“Spencer, I have my reasons. But I also need a certain amount of privacy, even from you. I have things I need to work through and frankly, I need more time!”

“You’ve had six months! Six months to work through these things! What am I supposed to think, Derek?”

“Guys, I-“ Spencer waved a hand to silence Hotch, who stepped back, stunned.

“You act like I don’t get a say in this. Like your feelings and whatever the hell you’re going through only affects you. I’m tired.” Spencer bit his lip. “I’m so tired.”

“I’m tired too, kid.” They stood, just staring at each other. Derek felt the weight of everyone else’s eyes on them.

“So that’s it, huh?” Spencer asked, and in the crack in his voice was everything that wasn’t said. As angry as he was, he would not do to Derek what Derek would not do to himself.

“Yeah, kid. I think that’s it.” Derek had to lean against a seat in order to keep from falling to his knees.

“Morgan, go sit down,” Hotch said firmly. 

“I’m gonna go- I-“ Derek gestured vaguely towards the bathroom and stumbled away, his breathing choked and heavy. He hardly closed the door behind him before the first sob racked his body, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. His shoulders heaved and tears began to surge down his cheeks, but he endured it all in as much silence as he could, curled on the floor of the BAU jet bathroom. Outside, he could hear soft, unintelligible whispering, but no one came after him. They all knew better than that, and anyway, the one person he actually wanted to see right now was the last person who would want to talk to him. He briefly considered calling his mom, or even one of his sisters, but he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be pushed away from the few people on this earth who knew everything about him- well, almost everything. Slowly but steadily, Derek got to his feet. His entire body felt heavy, like he was trying to walk through water. When he opened the door, everyone tried very pointedly not to look at him. He sat down across from Rossi, who flinched but didn’t look up from his magazine.

“You okay, kid?” He asked, so quietly Derek almost thought he imagined it.

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Still not looking up, Rossi pulled a magazine off the seat next to him and tossed it to Derek. It was a Newsweek from two weeks ago, but Derek still felt a surge of gratitude. Not enough to dull the sensation that his heart was quite literally breaking in two, but it was something. No one else spoke, not to Spencer, not to each other, and certainly not to him. They might not have had any idea about what was going on (if they did, they didn’t show it), but they got the idea that it didn’t involve them. Maybe it should, Derek thought to himself. But if he told them now, any of them, what was any of it for?

The little house in Arlington was the same as he’d left it, except that Clooney’s water dish had been refilled by his friend who dogsat for him whenever he was out of town. Stopping only to scratch the elderly German Shepherd behind the ears, Derek headed straight for the living room, collapsing in a heap of limbs on the sofa. He couldn’t deny that it was his fault anymore, could he? Spencer really hadn’t been asking that much, when it came down to it. Just that they could be together in public, in the eyes of their friends. Because that was what you did when you were with someone. Only they had never really been  _ together,  _ because Derek had always laughed it off when Spencer had asked if they were boyfriends. Why was that? Why couldn’t he get up the courage to be something with someone? Not even just someone, but someone he thought he maybe loved. 

So, it was love. Then why couldn’t he ever bring himself to say those words, or any like them, out loud? It wasn’t like he had never been in a long-term relationship before. It wasn’t like he had never been someone’s boyfriend, or like he’d never said “I love you”. All the dates he’d been on, the late nights shared on this same sofa, dinners with his family, introductions to his friends passed through his head like the old-school viewmaster he had loved to play with as a kid. It took him a moment to realize why this was so different than all of those other times, and when he did, he fell off the sofa onto the floor, knocking his head against the coffee table as he tumbled down. He had been a boyfriend, he had said “I love you”, he had been out in public and met the parents and the friends before.

But he had never done it with a man.

Why it had taken him this long to figure that out, he didn’t actually know, and kind of wanted to smack himself for, but then he noticed the blood dripping from his head where he had hit the coffee table, and decided he’d probably injured himself enough for one night. While he was getting up to find the first-aid kit he kept in the hall closet, he looked back, incredulous. Sure, figuring out he liked men had been a fairly recent development, but he honestly didn’t see it as life-changing at the time. No, he hadn’t told anyone, but that was because it wasn’t anyone else’s business… right? 

No. That wasn’t right.

In the dim light of the bathroom, Derek inspected his injury. It wasn’t a super deep cut, but it would take a while to heal, and he’d probably have a scar for a while. Watching his blood dilute and swirl down the drain, he remembered a specific day from his childhood he hadn’t thought about in years. He had only been twelve, maybe thirteen, and playing basketball with a few friends after school when they heard yelling from around one side of the community center. That had been the first hate crime he had ever seen- a gay kid got beat up simply for being gay. And as a Chicago cop, and an FBI agent, it was not the last. It wasn’t the last time he heard slurs tossed around like they bore no weight, casual ignorance from the coworkers in the locker room or friends on the street. If they’d known about him, would they have stayed quiet? Would they have kept their vitriol to themselves until he was gone and then let it spew, melting the world around them like acid? Or would they have done to him what they did to that kid that day at the community center? No, he was too big and too strong for that. Being big and strong was what protected him, from fists and rage, but also from prying eyes. No one ever expected that the 200 lb former linebacker and Judo black would be the one with the dirty little secret. Maybe if they did, it would be easier. Maybe if he thought it would surprise everyone less, it wouldn’t be quite so hard. When Spencer had come out to the team a few years ago, no one had seemed surprised. It wasn’t hard to see how the skinny kid with the messy hair, who’d never really had a girlfriend, who wore sweater vests and sneakers everywhere, who could carry a conversation with only his endless fount of knowledge, could be different from the rest of them. Only he wasn’t that different, was he? No, his coming out had been what sparked Derek’s journey of self-discovery, so they weren’t as different as they seemed. What he truly couldn’t endure was the surprise. He didn’t want to be seen in a different light- he was just Derek Morgan, same as always. But that was never really the case with a bomb like this. No one ever just took it without flinching, without questions that demanded answers he couldn’t give. 

The scales in his mind, which up until this point had been weighted so heavily towards that one side, that side that said everything would go wrong and his life would change forever, began to tip now. Because now he was in his home office, staring at the bulletin board over his desk. His office was the one place no one else ever went in his house (his bedroom was almost his own, except the time he’d let Emily sleep in his bed after getting a little too wasted at the FBI Christmas party). But no, his office was his and his only, so that was where he kept all the reminders he needed for himself, without anyone else’s input. A signed puck from a Chicago Blackhawks game he’d gone to with his father before he died. A dried flower from the bouquet his mom had sent him when he was accepted into the FBI academy. But he wasn’t looking at those things right now, right now his eyes were fixed on the photo that had taken a prominent position front and center. If he’d been profiling himself, he would have said that the reason was that that photo had some kind of importance. It was him and Spencer, about three months earlier, at a Washington Wizards game, basketball being the only sport he could convince Spencer to go to. The picture was a close-up of the jumbotron, during the third-quarter Kiss Cam (he had paid the guy working the Kiss Cam twenty bucks for the footage). In it, Spencer was wearing one of Derek’s old Wizards jerseys, and he was still in the middle of saying something when Derek had kissed him. His wide eyes made it obvious it had been a surprise, but his smile and the hand resting on Derek’s backwards baseball cap gave him away. Derek loved that picture, that’s why he had put it on the board right where he could see it as he worked. He wanted to go back to that, to the quiet ease and the loud feelings, to blending into a world that told them they had to stand out. 

The scales were tipping. On one side, there was the world. On the other, there was Spencer. Spencer, who loved brownies and foreign films. Spencer, who wore his sneakers to The Capital Grille. Spencer, who should have been jaded and cynical but still had an optimism about the world Derek couldn’t quite refute. The scales were tipping, and Derek made no effort to stop them. With every minute he stared at that picture, every minute he thought about the last six months, they tipped further and further until there was no denying that one outweighed the other. With a little resignation, a little relief, and a lot of apprehension, Derek got up, turned off the office light, and went to bed. 

The round table room was dead silent when he walked in, not that anyone had been talking before he’d arrived. Rossi and JJ were watching everyone with wide, wary eyes. Emily was staring into her coffee. Garcia bit her lip, her nerves obviously getting to her. Hotch was scrolling through his tablet. Spencer sat in his chair, staring off into the near distance. His hair was more of a mess than normal, his tie was crooked, and his eyes were heavy-lidded and red, like he’d stayed up all night.

“Garcia.” Hotch nodded. “Let’s get started.”

“Okay, well-” Penelope’s voice wobbled, and she started suddenly as Derek raised his hand. “I- what?”

“Can I say something before we start?” Confused, a little freaked, she looked to Hotch for confirmation. Hotch looked equally as confused, but nodded.

“Go ahead, but try to make it quick.”

“I will.” On shaky legs, Derek stood. Everyone looked at him, their interests piqued, except Spencer, who continued staring off at some point Derek couldn’t see. “Six months ago, I met someone. Well, no. I already knew them. Six months ago, I saw someone I knew in a different light. And for the last six months, I’ve been falling head-over heels in love.”

“Derek, how come you never told me?” Penelope gently squeezed his hand. “Whoever she is, I’m sure we’d love her.” He smiled, shaking his head.

“That’s just it. You’re not going to love her, because there is no her.” Confused, the team glanced at each other, but remained silent. “He is so incredibly special to me, and I’ve wanted to scream it from the rooftops for six months, but I just… I couldn’t.” Now, for the first time, he turned to Spencer. “Spencer Reid, I love you.” Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes wide like he’d just woken up. His mouth opened and closed a few times but he didn’t say anything. Derek wasn’t watching anyone else, but he was sure they were wearing identical looks of shock. “I’ll never be as sorry for anything else in my life as I am that I never told you that, and that I made you keep this secret for so long.” He crouched in front of Spencer, taking his hands. “I had to think. I shouldn’t have had to, I should have just let myself be with you, but I did. I’ve seen a lot, Spencer, a lot of myself and a lot of the world. And I hate to say it, but I’ve got way too much fear for my own good. But I realized that if I weigh whatever fear I have against you, it’s no contest.” He cleared his throat and straightened, facing his startled friends. “I’m bisexual. It took me a while to figure it out, and even longer to come to terms with it, but it’s who I am. Six months ago, about a month before you came back, Em, I asked Spencer to go to the movies with me. We’ve been together ever since. Last week, he asked me if we could tell you. I let my demons get the better of me. I’m not gonna do that anymore. Spencer.” He held out a big, weathered hand, pleading silently for Spencer to take it. Spencer stares up at him, clearly hesitating. But then he blinks, and whatever reservations he had disappeared. He took Derek’s hand and let himself be pulled into a hug. Derek felt his narrow, bony arms wrap around his shoulders and his head bury into the crook of his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Derek whispered, knowing the rest of the team was still watching, not really caring.

“I forgive you,” Spencer murmured. 

“I love you.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Derek frowned. “Sorry. Love you too.”

“Ahem.” Hotch cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, I’m very happy for you guys, but can we finish the briefing first?” Derek and Spencer untangled their limbs, both grinning sheepishly. They sat back down, an awkward but cheery silence sweeping the room. 

“Wow. Uh, okay.” Penelope wiped her eyes and Derek realized she was crying a little. So was he, just a few little happy tears in the corner of his eyes. In fact, it looked like there wasn’t a dry eye at the round table. “So, yesterday in Sacramento, one Mr. Paul Young was found in a dumpster with his hands cut off- ew.”

“Morgan. Reid. Hang on a minute.” Hotch beckoned for them to stay as the rest of the team headed to the jet. Derek winced. He’d known there would be something, but he’d hoped rather foolishly that Hotch would give them a few days. Nope. 

“Hotch, listen-“

“Guys, just… hold on.” Hotch scanned them both with those dark, analytical eyes. “I won’t tell Strauss if you don’t want me to, which I’m assuming you don’t. I’m guessing you two know that this isn’t going to be easy.”

“Hotch-“

“I’m not done. You cannot have anything happen like what happened on the plane yesterday. If you do, I will tell Strauss. I’m not threatening your jobs, and even if I do tell Strauss, I will fight for you to keep your jobs. But that can never, ever happen again. Am I clear?” Derek nodded vigorously, and out of the corner of his eye saw Spencer doing the same. “Good.” Hotch remained serious for a moment, then broke out smiling. Derek couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Hotch smile so brightly. “I’m happy for you guys. Really.”

“Thanks, Hotch.” When Derek glanced over at Spencer, he was flushed bright red.

“Alright. Get your stuff, get on the jet. I’ll see you there.” He pushed between them, leaving them alone by the round table.

“I’m sorry too, you know,” Spencer said, turning to face Derek.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Neither do you, really. You needed to process things I didn’t even know you were thinking about. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like those feelings weren’t valid, or if your feelings weren’t as important as mine.”

“No. Never.” Derek took Spencer’s face in his hands and smiled, feeling the happy tears resurface. “It all worked out in the end.”

“No. Not the end. The beginning.” Slowly; hesitantly at first, Spencer leaned in and kissed him, and Derek let him, pushing back with more fervor.

“We should go,” he said quietly, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against Spencer’s. “Hotch’ll be pissed if we’re late.”

“Let him.” Spencer grabbed the collar of Derek’s t-shirt with one hand, the back of his head with the other, and pulled him in for another kiss. When he broke the second kiss, he held out his hand, which was soft and bony in comparison to Derek’s. Derek took his hand and let Spencer lead him out of the room. He was right, really. This wasn’t the end of a secret not worth keeping. It was the beginning of a real love story.


End file.
